Chapter 4

Sophia

I didn’t know what possessed me to say those words.

Maybe it was the way he was looking at me—like he wanted to devour me all over again. Or maybe it was the ache that hadn't stopped since I woke up this morning, still feeling his touch like a ghost on my skin.

But once the words were out—I think I want it again—there was no taking them back. And the way his eyes darkened... God.

"I shouldn't," I whispered, even though I'd just asked for it. "We shouldn't."

He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just held me there, his hand still on my waist, his thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles that made it impossible to think straight.

"You're not a kid anymore," he finally said. "And I'm not a saint."

"No," I breathed. "You're not."

I felt it right then. My pulse drummed in my ears. Loudly that I was afraid he could hear it.

"You sure this isn't just curiosity talking?" he asked. "Because if I touch you again, Sophia, I'm not stopping."

I hated how much I trembled at those words.

"I'm not curious," I said, lifting my chin. "Not anymore."

That was all it took.

In one swift move, he grabbed me off my feet like I weighed nothing and placed me on the kitchen counter. A surprised gasp escaped my lips, but it was swallowed the second his mouth crashed into mine.

His lips were hot, demanding, like he'd been holding back for years and finally let the dam break. My hands flew to his shoulders, clinging to him as his fingers dug into my hips, dragging me closer until there was nothing but heat and breath and the way his body pressed against mine.

His mouth moved down to my neck, and I tilted my head, giving him more access without even thinking. My pulse thudded like crazy, echoing in my ears as I felt his breath, his tongue, his teeth—God, his teeth—grazing that sensitive spot just below my ear.

"You drive me insane," he muttered against my skin.

I didn't even know if he meant to say it out loud.

But I felt it. Every word. Every touch.

This wasn't just physical—it was like years of something unspoken finally rising to the surface.

And right then, I didn't care if it was wrong. I just wanted more.

His lips trailed lower, burning a path down my neck, across my collarbone, and then even lower. I sucked in a breath, my hands threading through his hair as he kissed across the fabric of my shirt. Each kiss was slower than the last—like he wanted to memorize every inch of me.

And then he knelt. My heart leapt into my throat.

He looked up at me, hands already parting my legs with soft movements. There was nothing hesitant in his gaze—only that same heat, that same hunger that had been smoldering between us for far too long.

"Mr. Damian..." I whispered, my voice barely a breath.

He paused. His eyes lifted to mine—stormy, dark, and completely in control. "Try again," he said, his eyes darkening more.

My lips parted, trembling. "Mr. Damian..."

A small, wicked smile curved his mouth. "No, sweetheart." His hands gripped my thighs tighter. "It's Daddy. Call me Daddy."

My breath caught. There was something dangerous in the way he said it, something that made every nerve in my body snap to life.

"Daddy," I whispered.

A smile—or rather a smirk—curved up his lips. "Good girl."

His hands worked their way up and pulled my jeans to my knees. I bit my bottom lip, feeling my core throb more just from the graze of his finger on my exposed thigh.

"You're so wet for me already. Is this how much you want me?"

I couldn't get any response out of my mouth because of how hot my body was—how aroused I felt. A voice in my head kept reminding me who Damian was. He was my father's best friend. But truth be told, I couldn't care less at that moment.

I wanted him. And I didn't know my crush on him hadn't died until the anniversary when I saw him again. The thoughts that came into my head then were sinful. I realized I was attracted to him.

I was brought back to my senses when his hand hovered over my soaked panties, his eyes going darker by the second. His movements were slow as he shifted my panties and pulsed his index finger inside my pussy.

"Fuck!" I cried out, arching my back and absentmindedly gripping his arm. Damn. This man will likely kill me before I get an orgasm.

He withdrew his finger and pulsed it inside again, and my eyeballs rolled back at the sensation of how crazily good his finger felt inside me.

"You're so tight, Sophia. Has anyone ever touched you like this?" he asked, his voice dangerously sexual in my ears.

"Has this tight pussy ever been fingered by any boy before?" he asked again when I didn't respond.

How could I, when he was messing with my body?

I shook my head. No man had ever touched me the way he was touching me. My wildness with my ex-boyfriend had never gone this far. We get straight to the main thing. And I knew even that couldn't compare to what Damian was doing to me.

He leaned over, his lips brushing my ear and sending more arousal through me. "That means I'm the first person to ever touch you this way," he murmured.

I shifted onto the counter, parting my legs wider.

"Daddy is going to show you just how much his fingers can do to your pussy."

He didn't give me time to process his words—or respond—before I felt his finger deep inside me. He didn't go slow. He thrust faster and deeper, pulling a moan out of me.

My legs shook with every pace, and my fingers gripped his arm. "Ah!"

"I'm—" My eyeballs rolled back as my orgasm began building up. Damn. How can someone be this skilled?

"I'm going to come," I managed to breathe the words out.

"Come for me," he whispered, going faster and gripping my thigh tighter.

The way my nails dug into his arms—I wouldn't be surprised if I left a bruise.

"Oh my God. I'm... getting there," My whole body shook as a strong, intense orgasm built up inside me. And I let it go, my chest rising and falling.

Damian pulled out his finger, but immediately bent over—and the next thing I felt was his mouth on my pussy, licking my cum. It was unexpected but feels so good.

His tongue flicked over my clit and damn—if I wasn't already on the verge of losing my mind.

I felt another orgasm building up and was ready to explode when the sound of a phone ringing blared through the kitchen.

We both ignored it, too lost in our world. Yet the sound didn't die down.

A grunt left Damian's lips as he pulled back, licking his lower lip in frustration. He forcefully pulled out his phone from his pants pocket. And damn—if my eyes weren't fixated on the bulge in his pants.

How big is he? Would it even fit in me? Would I be able to handle it?

"It's your Dad," Damian said, snapping me out of my trance.

My heart skipped a beat. And guilt instantly crept in. My Dad was away while I was here having a pleasure-filled moment with his best friend.

How crazy can that get?

"Are you going to answer it?" I found myself asking.

From the way his jaw clenched, I could tell he was pissed. But at what? At my father? Or the fact that our moment was cut short?

He watched as the call ended without picking up, then slipped the phone back in his pocket.

I was already waiting—expecting him to get back down and continue licking my pussy, making a mess of my body.

However, he stepped back, as if the call had snapped him back to his sense.

Well, maybe it had. It should.

"Go to bed, Sophia," was all he said. And just like that, he turned and walked out, leaving me in a needy, aroused state.

I lingered on the counter—legs still spread, pussy wet and aching. His touch still vibrated through me. I hadn't gotten enough.

And the worst part? The guilt in my chest was little to nothing compared to the fact that Damian left without making me cum for the second time.

Just as I was about to push off the countertop, my phone buzzed behind me—which I had totally forgotten about.

I clicked on the message notification from the unknown number.

"Make sure you lock the door and windows."

I didn't need to be told to know who it was. Damian.

And for the life of me, all I wished for... was having him finger and taste me. Again.